Color Theory
by ElectroSophistaFunky
Summary: An exceedingly eccentric and uncannily observant artist witnesses a murder that Bullock and Gordon are investigating. As things continue forward it becomes clear that their witness has a much more colorful life and past than either of them could have imagined, especially Detective Bullock.
1. Swords & Swatches

"You will not find Baringer here, Detective, I'm sorry. Our painter works at a space across town."

"Fine, can you at least give me the address? We need to speak with him," sighed Jim Gordon.

"Of course, but I will warn you, Baringer is not the nicest of people when interrupted from their work."

"What is it he does exactly for you?"

"Baringer is our resident scenic artist."

"What exactly is that?"

"Baringer paints and treats all scenic elements throughout our season as well as the opera's season."

Jim raised a brow at that. "I was told you guys do nearly a dozen shows a season and I know for a fact the opera does at least half a dozen every season. Sounds like a busy guy."

"That she is, detective, hence her hostility at being interrupted."

"Ah, well, we'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

Jim took the address from the company manager of the Gotham Repertory Theatre, bidding him goodbye and walking out of the offices. He hit Harvey's number in his contacts and soon the husky voice of Detective Bullock answered.

"What's up, Jim?"

"Our witness, Baringer, is not actually at the theatre, but at an address across town. Looks like it should be somewhere near East End. You mind going by that way?"

A sigh came from Harvey. "Yeah, I'm not far from there. Give me the address. Anything I need to know?"

"Yeah, the witness is apparently not too fond of being disturbed. Sorry."

"Thanks, bud, another bitchy witness is all I needed today."

"Never know, you might just make a new friend. Misery loves company, right?" Jim smiled, taking a little pleasure in Harvey's vexation.

"Screw you, boy scout," and with that Harvey hung up. Jim texted him the address right after.

Within an hour Harvey pulled up to a closed down school house. Jim specified in his text that he needed to go to the gym. Harvey parked and found a door that was cracked open leading into the gym. When he stepped in he saw the gym floor. It was once polished and shiny, but now it was covered by a patchwork of carpet and a piece of muslin that was at least fifty feet wide by thirty feet tall. He stepped forward, the sound of strange music made his ears perk a little, but he was too involved in looking at the giant work before him. It looked like some sort of Spanish villa. He looked it over, a bit taken by how massive it was.

"You have about five seconds to explain who you are and why you are here," said a woman's voice. Harvey turned more to his left, spotting the woman. She was only twenty feet away, holding a sabre. She had a second one in her other hand.

"Woah, lady, chill I-"

"Not what I wanted to hear."

She stepped forward briskly and tossed the other at him, handle first. By the time Harvey caught it she was already slashing down at him, he pulled his own up to block her.

"You know you're assaulting an officer?!"

She thrust at him, he parried, but she dodged and he would feel the sting of steal on his thighs.

"An officer of what? The IRS?"

"The law, oW!" Harvey growled as he caught steel over his stomach. She was vicious, Harvey tried to back away and blocked another attack seeing that her own chest was exposed. He lunged forward, but she spun smoothly out of the way and ended up even closer to him, her blade now at his neck, she backed him into the wall behind him. She stared him down for a moment, both of them were panting just a little. Finally she lowered her sword, but she stayed right there, inches from him.

Harvey was flustered. _Who the fuck is this lady?_ Finally he dropped his own sword unceremoniously. She stepped back from him and looked him over.

"Why didn't you just say that when you first got here?"

"You didn't give me enough time to speak."

"You didn't speak quick enough."

"I ought to arrest you for that."

"But you won't. I have a feeling you'd like to keep this defeat under wraps."

She turned and began to walk away and Harvey followed after her.

"No, I need to speak to Mr. Baringer."

"You have found him."

"Where?"

"I am the Baringer you seek."

"I thought Baringer was a guy."

"You thought wrong. And you are?"

Harvey observed her stride and her backside. Her hair was completely covered and wrapped in a bandana. She herself was clothed in coveralls that were a swatch of colors. By the looks of it she occasionally used her own leg as a color palette, as a few different fresh shades of peach were on her left thigh.

"Detective Bullock."

She looked back to him as she got to a set of stairs that looked like they had been added to the gym and weren't part of its original design that led up to a catwalk above.

"I have seen your name in the paper, come, walk with me, Detective."

Harvey didn't even… He just didn't even know what the hell was going on with this lady. He just shrugged and humored her. At least she wasn't fighting him anymore.

Once they reached the top of the steps to the catwalk she would walk to the middle of it and lean against the railing, looking down. Once he joined her he didn't look down, he looked at her.

"You were a witness to the Harrison murder five nights ago. Can you tell me about that?"

"Many people saw that murder. Why are you bothering me about it?"

"Word is that you may have seen the killer's vehicle."

"I did."

"Well?"

"It was a black sedan. The plates were missing."

"Well, a whole hell lot of good that does me."

"The body though… it had two dents on the passenger's side and the paint… the paint was a red based black with a shimmering finish. Also, I noticed there was a scratch on the bumper, it looked as though it used to be red and was painted over with the black."

Harvey folded his arms, leaning his back against the rail and looking at her as she looked down.

"What about the killer? Anything interesting you can tell me about him."

"He was about six feet tall, I'd say he weighed about 200 pounds. He wore a black coat, black pants and shirt, he was left handed. He had blue eyes, and though I couldn't see his hair well, I saw a strand or two of it, it was red. His ball cap was black, but it was green on the underside of the brim. The way he walked and ran, he has an old knee injury that stirs up during rain fall, it was wet that night. I could see the way he grit his teeth when he put weight on it.

Harvey tilted his head with a raised brow, staring at her. She turned her head to him as he stayed quiet.

"What?"

"That was just… I never met a witness with that many speculations about a perp."

"it is not speculation it is all fact."

"Oh?"

"You asked for what I could tell you and I told you. What else do you want from me, Detective?"

Harvey felt a slight pang of guilt, she looked offended by him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, Miss Baringer, that is all very helpful information."

She nodded and looked back down to below. Harvey finally turned and looked down. He gasped quietly, placing his hands on the rail. The backdrop he'd observed when he first walked took nearly his entire scope of vision. They were at least forty feet above it and it was marvelous. Seeing it up close and from the ground did not come close to doing it justice. He looked it over for at least a minute before she spoke again.

"Do you have a taste for art, Detective Bullock?"

"I wouldn't say that I'm much of an authority, but… you did this on your own?"

"it is my job."

"That's just insane."

"Insane?"

"I just don't even see how one person can do all of that without any help."

"Well, perhaps you should check your vision, Detective."

Harvey had to chuckle a little at that. He looked back her, observing her features and expression. She was sharp and without remorse. He suddenly felt a little warmth in his cheeks. She finally cracked a smirk at him.

"Perhaps you're right, Miss Baringer. You're very good at what you do."

"When it is finished it will be worth the compliment, but… it is appreciated nonetheless."

"I wasn't complimenting that, I was complimenting you."

"Well, aren't you a treat…"

Harvey looked back to it for a moment more and then back to her.

"So, would you be willing to make a witness statement for me, officially, downtown?"

"Right now?"

"Sure, unless another time within the next day or so is better for you."

She pulled a phone from her pocket and looked at the time.

"You're in luck. I am at the end of my day. I will need a few minutes to wash my brushes, but if you can wait…"

"Of course."

They descended back to ground level. She took about fifteen minutes to square her things away. Harvey just observed the place and stole glances back at her while she washed brushes and closed paint cans, stowing things away into their proper place. Finally she began to get out of the coveralls, Harvey turned away to give her some privacy. A moment later she had walked past him, going toward the door. She was dressed in a pair of snug jeans and a black shirt with ¾ length sleeves and the same boots she had on before. She grabbed her coat, a tan, wool-lined thing that nearly swallowed her up. She picked up a small messenger bag. He followed behind her, finding the view of her from behind wasn't all that bad. They were about to step out and she stopped. She pulled the bandana from her hair and locks of golden blonde cascaded down. Harvey caught the scent of a faint coconut as he passed her to step out. She was right behind him and turned to lock the door in several places. Once she was done she turned back to him. He already had the passenger door open for her.

"Your chariot awaits you, madam."

_What the fuck am I doing? Flirting?_

A few minutes later they were going along their merry little way to the police station. Up until that point they had mostly stayed quiet, the occasional dispatch call over the police radio breaking the silence. Eventually she looked over to him, she'd been looking through emails on her phone.

"Do you like it?"

"Ma'am?"

"Being a detective?"

"It's a job."

"No, it is not, Detective. It's a career, one that I imagine takes a lot of energy and time from your personal life."

"Oh? You're an expert then?"

"You have bags under your eyes, you sleep less than eight hours a night, often less than six. You chain smoke when you are alone, you did it before you found me, your hand smells of Turkish cigarettes. You drink heavily, I could smell the whiskey on your breath when I got close enough to smell it."

She looked over to him with a smirk. He just made a grimace at her.

"And no wedding band, but your predatory glances in my direction, especially after I shed the coveralls, suggest you are sexually active and full of lustful urge, yet in no relationship, currently. Your repoire with me thus far just gives me the impression you put off an air of chauvinism, but deep down you admire all women. You pretend to be misogynistic to keep women from feeling attracted enough to you to pursue a relationship that lasts longer than a few hours, you further this goal by caring little to shave, cut your hair, or do much of anything most men do to attract the attention of suitable mates. However, you are an insatiable flirt, you have been for most of your life. You simply cannot help yourself because deep down you love women so much that you think it would be unfair of you to expect one to live with the idea that you may not make it home on that fateful night in which you will be killed in the line of duty. "

A driver behind them honked, Harvey had been staring at her as they had been stopped at a red light that had turned green a few seconds ago while he just stared at her in disbelief. At the sound of the horn from behind he turned his attention back to driving.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, Baringer?"

"Detective, if I were clever I'd have told you that you that you like it when a woman grips locks of your hair in the throes of passion."

"How the hell do you-"

"It was a guess, and now it was confirmed. That was the clever part in it… you just confirmed it with your defensiveness."

Harvey gripped the wheel hard. He was feeling angry, offended, a little confused, and wierded out by how spot on she was.

"Lady, you're a piece of work, you know that?"

"Sure, but do you?"

"Alright, enough with your little mind games."

She frowned, suddenly feeling a little guilty. She'd made him very uncomfortable. She had a gift for observing people in this way. It was why she worked alone, she had a habit of driving people away. She suddenly felt very guilty.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to strike at you. I was just making conversation. I shouldn't have done that."

Harvey glanced over, seeing that she was looking down at her feet. He looked back to the road ahead.

"Its fine… I guess its just not great having to listen to what's wrong with your life."

"There's nothing wrong with the path you choose, Detective, so long as it is what feels most right to you."

She remained quiet the rest of the way, as did Harvey.


	2. Arch-Rivals

"Miss Baringer, this is my partner Jim Gordon."

Jim smiled to the woman and shook her hand.

"I trust Detective Bullock has already asked you about the Harrison murder?"

"Yes, he has."

"Well then, here is the paperwork we would like for you to fill out-" Jim motioned for her to sit at his desk, placing the paperwork at it for her, "if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. In the meantime, while you do that, Harvey will catch me up on what you told him, alright?"

Baringer smirked to Harvey.

"_Harvey Bullock._"

Jim raised a brow, looking to Bullock. Bullock grimaced a little at Baringer.

"What? It's just a nice name, is all…"

Harvey pulled his hands from his pockets and just folded his arms and looked to Jim with a look that told him not to ask. Harvey gestured his head into a tilt, prompting Jim to follow him. Baringer began filling out her witness statement as the two men moseyed into Essen's office.

At their arrival Captain Essen looked up from her desk.

"Detectives, I assume that is the witness you've been tracking down for the last three days."

"Yeah, that's the broad," said Harvey with folded arms as he watched her from behind Essen's blinds. Jim and Essen both sensed Harvey's irritation.

"And?" asked Essen, cutting into Harvey's tension.

Harvey looked back to them both.

"She saw the suspect commit the crime and take off in a black sedan with no plates."

"That's all you got, Harvey?" Essen looked stern and folded her arms.

"She gave the most detailed description of the suspect we've received. She said he was red headed, blue eyed, six foot, looked about 200 pounds. She also specified two dents on the passenger side of the sedan and scratch on the bumper that indicated it was originally painted red, but later repainted black. I know it's not much, but-"

"It's a lot more than any other witnesses were able to give us thus far, ma'am," chimed in Gordon as he leaned against Essen's desk.

"She's got this weird knack for reading people, too. She mentioned that she observed the suspect has an old knee injury that bothers him in wet weather. She said she could see him gritting his teeth at putting weight on it."

Essen raised her brows and folded her own arms.

"The theatre she works for said she's a scenic artist," added Gordon.

"Yeah, so?" snorted Harvey.

"What if we asked her to sketch him out?"

"We have our own forensic artist-" chimed Essen before she was cut short by Harvey.

"Boy scout's got a point, Cap. When I went to address Jim gave me she was had a fifty foot or so backdrop laid out on the floor of an old school gym. I think she would have no problems doing that."

"Well, make it happen then, boys. I want to get this closed soon, I've had the press up on the front steps for far too long the last few days."

"Yes, ma'am," stated Gordon as he and Harvey moved to walk back out.

A few minutes later Harvey was sitting at his desk while Jim was leaning against it.

"A drawing? You want me to sketch him out?"

"Well, ma'am, given the nature of your occupation, we think you could paint us a better picture of him than our own forensic artist can." Jim shifted a little on Harvey's desk.

"So you want me to do someone else's job?"

"Will you or won't you? We got lives. We'd like to get the hell home. We are at the end of our shift, after all. Otherwise, you'll have to sit with our forensic artist and describe the perp to him."

Jim looked back at Harvey wondering what the hell was going on with him and this witness. Jim felt that since Harvey arrived with Miss Baringer he had been on edge. Jim was about to say something, but Baringer spat out a reply to Harvey.

"I will, but only because I wouldn't want to keep you from your _fulfilling_ life, Detective Bullock."

Harvey muttered something and Baringer stood.

"I'll work on it tonight, but you'll have to come retrieve it from me tomorrow. You know where to find me gentlemen. Is that all?"

"That's great, thank you Miss Baringer. That should be it for now."

"Well, then I bid you both goodnight."

Jim looked back to Harvey, wondering what the hell his deal was, but Harvey surprised him with his next words.

"Can I give you a lift?"

Baringer eyed him a little and finally a cutting smirk came across her lips.

"Sure."

Harvey was on his feet pulling his coat on. He put his hat on as Baringer began to walk away. Just before Harvey started to take off after her Jim stopped him up with a hand to his arm.

"Hey, what the hell, man? One minute you and her are glaring daggers at each other and then the next, well…"

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"Harvey, if you're _friends_ with her then you know you can't-"

"We're nothing but strangers to each other. I'm just trying to be a gentleman."

Jim had to work to hold back a chuckle. Harvey shoved him lightly as he walked past him. Eventually he caught up with Baringer.

"So, _Adelaide, _where are we headed to?"

"Your grave if you call me by that name again."

Harvey smirked in victory. He was glad he had taken the time to look over her paper work.

"Well then what can I call you aside from _Adelaide Baringer_?"

She stopped, and turned to him, looking him over. Her mouth was closed, but it was clear she had run her tongue between her bottom teeth and lip.

"I prefer you call me by my middle name."

"And that is?"

"You'll have to figure that out on your own. Do some detective work."

"Fine. Where are we headed?"

"Home."

"And that's where?"

"Midtown."

About twenty minutes later they were at her door. Harvey had insisted on walking her to her door. She lived in a brownstone being overtaken by vines. Her apartment was on the top floor of the small building, it had large windows.

"What's your deal?"

"What?"

"You're being a gentleman, well you're trying to."

"So?"

"Well, you're no gentleman from what I can tell."

Harvey folded his arms and scoffed at her.

"Not at all."

She was smiling with a brow raised, playfully.

"Well, you ain't much of a lady yourself."

"Oh now I get it."

"Get what?"

"You're still thinking about what I said earlier, on the way to the police station."

"What? No-"

"Yes you are. _You want_ _to prove me wrong_, you may not think it, but that's what you're trying to do. You're trying to show me that there is more to _Harvey Bullock_. Aren't you?"

Harvey's arms were now at his sides, but his fists were balling up, his knuckles white with anger, speechless and enraged. She leaned to him and placed a sultry kiss on the corner of his lip.

"Thank you for the ride, Detective. See you tomorrow."

Harvey was surprised by the kiss at the edge of his jaw, flirting at the corner of his lip. Something deep in him wanted to just grab her and after that he didn't know what he wanted to do. He just stood there, frozen by a mix of conflicting emotions, trying to pretend they weren't emotions at all.

She disappeared into her building. As soon as the door shut Harvey took off his hat and nearly threw it on the ground, but decided against it. He ran a hand through his hair, turned, and headed back to his car, putting the hat back on before he opened the driver side door.

He looked back up to her building one last time. He watched her as she took her coat off after stepping into her apartment and hung it on a coat rack before she turned to a large dog that nearly tackled her. She pet the dog who seemed awfully pleased at her arrival. She reached for a leash and hooked it on the dog's collar. That was when he put his car into drive and began to slide away and down the road.

It wasn't long before the Detective found himself a bottle of whiskey to crawl into at a liquor store to take home. His apartment was nothing special. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of movies, vinyl records, and case files he'd brought home with him over the years. It wasn't a complete wreck, but it could use some tidying up. A week's worth of beer bottles littered his coffee table.

After getting in the door he locked it behind him and headed into the pitiful place he called a kitchen. Harvey was not one to cook much, thus his kitchen was one of the cleanest areas of his home. He set the paper sack he had tucked under his arm on the countertop and began pulling out the whiskey bottle, a few snacks, and a sandwich he picked up along the way. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and toted the bottle along with him to his living room. He set his glass down on his coffee table, shoving a few of the beer bottles out of the way. He sat on his couch and grabbed his remote, turning on the television. The evening news buzzed along as he began to tear into his Reuben sandwich.

"_Speaking of local legends, tomorrow will have marked five years since the last sighting of work by the highly acclaimed Gotham-based graffiti artist, ElectricSheep. His works were famed for their protestation of corruption in the city of Gotham's government and law enforcement. In fact, he was well known for his stealthy tactics in displaying his works and evading police pursuit-"_

Harvey muted the television. He did not want to hear the rest of what the reporters had to say. He could not believe it had been five years since he nearly nabbed the vandal, whom he had usually called Lec. They had an interesting relationship given that Harvey had been pursuing him for most of his career. It had all started when he was about twenty five, still a beat cop in East End.

Initially, it all started out as simple tagging with clever messages. He'd remembered the teenager, no older than fifteen or sixteen, sprinting away from him as he chased after him. As the years went on Lec only got better and Harvey only became more flustered by the vandal. Harvey had actually been the only officer to ever see Lec. Many officers tried to claim they had nearly caught Lec and/or saw caught glimpse of him escaping, but there was one thing Harvey knew about Lec that the rest of them never did. Lec always wore some form of Kabuki masks and/or make up, and none of the other officers ever mentioned that.

Harvey, while a homicide detective, still remained a little obsessed with catching Lec. Montoya, before heading over the major Crimes Unit, would tell him he should stop wasting his energy on pursuing Lec, citing the vandal was actually doing good in his own strange way. Harvey would always insist that it was a matter of principle, but Montoya knew it was all pride.

For fifteen years Harvey kept track of Lec, trying to find a method to his madness. He finally caught a break when he spotted a geographical pattern in his placement of his works. He found him, on the rooftop of an office building down town, rigging aircraft cable from its final point, completing a sculpture to hang over a plaza down town. From the cables hung steel sculptures of slaughtered pigs with twisted and grimacing expressions of anguish and turmoil. On the plaza's pavement the words "Gotham falls when pigs fly" was painted with great care.

"_STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING NOW AND GET ON THE GROUND."_

_Lec had ignored him and continued his work._

"_I said STOP NOW!"_

_Lec finally stopped after finishing up and stood slowly, raising his hands._

"_Bullock, I was wondering when you would figure it out," Lec's voice was deep, obviously altered by something electronic._

"_Turn around."_

_Lec turned slowly. He wore baggy black pants and a hoodie. His face was that of a colorful kabuki mask with an expression that seemed to exude contempt._

"_Take the mask off. Show me your face."_

"_Sorry, Harvey."_

_Lec leaned backward, falling off the building. _

_Harvey lurched forward to the ledge, catching the vandal by his arm. Once he got there he realized Lec was rigged to his own sculpture, a harness now apparent._

"_Wait, you son of a bitch, you knew I was coming?!"_

"_I've always been waiting, Harvey."_

_Harvey worked to pull him up, but Lec wrung himself free, catching the ledge of a window below._

"_You're crazy, you know you could fall to your death?"_

"_Ah, but I won't."_

"_And what do you mean you've been waiting for me?" Harvey sounded quite put off._

"_You've always been my number one fan. I am your secret admirer, can't you see it? A great deal of this, it has all been for you, lover."_

_Harvey was very put off now, but no matter, Lec let go of the cable he held onto and swung down below. Harvey watched, his stomach full of butterflies for the vandal as he plummeted. Much to Harvey's surprise and chagrin the vandal landed smoothly and pulled a zip cord, freeing himself from the harness he'd worn. He looked up to Harvey, giving a bow and then clicking some sort of detonator that set off a series of pyrotechnics that made the slaughtered pig sculptures fly and spin about. Harvey threw his hat down at his feet and cursed up a storm while the vandal ran off into the night. That was the last Harvey saw of Lec._

The memory got to Harvey. For nostalgia sake he searched through one of his shelves, eventually coming upon a thick binder labeled "Do Androids Dream Of…?" A dumb joke Harvey thought was appropriate at the time. He went back to his couch, pouring himself another glass of whiskey before opening it up. It was awash in pictures of street art, all done by his arch-rival. He flipped through it, smirking a little. The thing that always got him most was the last thing Lec had said to him, about how so much of it had been just for him. Harvey wasn't homophobic or anything, but he did prefer women, he had no interest in his own sex in that regard. He couldn't really tell what was behind that comment, but it stuck in his brain. He never had some dude trying to come after his belt, either, so he figured it wasn't like that. Or maybe it was? He didn't know what the vandal meant by calling him lover.

As he looked through the binder he couldn't help but smirk a little, even chuckling every now and then at some of the pictures. One of the pieces, about mid way through Harvey's little scrapbook of the vandal's fifteen years of work, was a mural on the side of the Gotham Stock Exchange building of a bunch of trolls scrambling and crawling atop each other to take money from, what looked to be, some sort of blue collar working woman. The caption under it said "Troll Toll." Despite Harvey's determination to catch Lec, even he had to admit the artist was a witty and put the bad seeds in their place. He served his own brand of justice through his art, perhaps that was why Harvey was so determined to catch him for all those years. Deep down Harvey seemed to realize that they got each other, somehow.

It would take a few more glasses of whiskey, but Harvey would eventually pass out on his couch, binder open on his chest, infomercials on his television spouting off about blenders that would change the viewer's life.


	3. Hello, Lover

_TAP-TA-TAP-TAP-TAP_

Bullock stirred from his slumber. He looked over to his television, seeing some idiot show about idiot people was on. He growled a little, feeling a little groggy from all that liquor.

_TAP-TA-TAP-TAP-TAP_

He turned his attention back to the window behind his couch. There was a hint of movement as someone or something scrambled away and down the fire escape at his window. Harvey's feet hit his wood floor and his pistol was drawn, pointed in direction of the window.

The building across the street suddenly lit up with magenta neon light.

_**Hello,**_

_**Lover.**_

Harvey blinked a few times and lowered his gun. He trotted to his window, opening it, climbing out and looking down to see if he could catch glimpse of who was on his fire escape. He caught sight of someone running off.

"HEY!"

They looked up. He saw a face, painted white, but a magenta fade between eyes and eyebrows and ruby red lips. They smiled up at him and winked before disappearing. Harvey started moving to head down the escape, but just as he did something happened in the street below. A large piece of fabric was released and as it fell the image of Mayor Aubrey James and Carmine Falcone making out was revealed with the words "Gotham wishes it could quit you."

"Awww shit," snorted Harvey.

The next day Harvey rolled into work, _truly Irish coffee_ in hand. Gordon was at his desk reading through case files.

"Scuttlebutt says you had quite the morning."

Harvey just grumbled at him as he slumped into his chair. He had that binder of his tucked under his arm. He slapped it down in front of Gordon.

"What's this?"

"The works of ElectricSheep."

"Oh that graffiti artist. I heard some of the guys talking about him just before you got here. Said that was who pulled the stunt across from your place early this morning."

"Without a doubt."

"I don't think Falcone or the Mayor are going to appreciate the mural."

Harvey snorted, smirking a little.

"Not likely."

"But how do you know its him and not some copycat banking on that five year anniversary stuff? And what was with "Hello, Lover?"

"I know it was him because I saw him. He was in Kabuki make up, though."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Those wise guys," Harvey pointed a thumb in the direction of the general population of officers off to his right, down below, "some of 'em'll try to say they seen him or almost caught him, but they're full of shit. I'm the only one that came close and Lec always wore that Kabuki shit."

Jim nodded thoughtfully.

"But the other thing…?"

"What other thing?"

"Hello, Lover?"

"That's just him being cheeky with me."

"_Cheeky with you?"_

"Look," Harvey lowered his voice and leaned to Jim, "five years ago, with the flying pigs thing, he said to me that I was his biggest fan and that he was my secret admirer. Said "A great deal of this has been for you, lover."

Jim batted an eye lash with a sheepish smirk.

"No, no. Don't you look at me like _that_. That dude was just being cheeky, that's all."

"I don't know, sounds like you have a _secret admirer_."

Harvey picked up a stapler and threw it at Jim. Jim dodged, stifling laughter. Harvey glared daggers at him and took a long draining of his coffee.

"You been by to get that sketch from Miss Baringer yet?"

"She called. Said she had it ready for you when you're ready to come grab it from her at her studio space."

"Me? Why do I have to do it?"

"I think she just assumed it would be you. I think she likes you."

"Sure."

Jim just went back to his paperwork and left Harvey to his sour mood.

By mid afternoon Harvey pulled up to the repurposed school gym he had stopped by yesterday where he first met Miss Baringer. He found the door cracked like he had the day before. When he stepped in he could hear a Rick James song filling the room at notable volume.

"I MAKE YOU HOLLER LIKE YOU HAD ENOUGH, HA!"

Baringer stood in the middle of her giant back drop holding a bamboo stick with a brush wedged into the end of it. Beside her were several trays with several different cans of varying, hand mixed, colors of paint. The color at the end of her brush was Rosco Off-Broadway Yellow Ochre. She was laying in some sort of detailing on one of the walls within the painting.

"No swords today, eh?"

She continued her work without even looking back to him. She pulled something out of her pocket and the volume of the music went down.

"No, just brushes."

She made a few more marks in her drop and turned, walking over to him, carefully avoiding wet paint.

"See?"

She waved the brush embellished bamboo at Harvey and he stepped back to avoid the paint getting on him.

"Hey, hey, watch it! This is my favorite tie!"

She giggled devilishly and rested it at her side.

"So, you're here for that sketch, then?"

"Yes, and I also wanted to pick your brain about something."

"Alright, well come with me."

Harvey followed her to the other end of the gym to what looked to once be the office of the gym teacher that used to reign over the space. It had a window that offered a view of the gym. Once they were inside she got seated on the other side of her desk, gesturing for Harvey to take a seat across from her. The office was a chaotic mess with some organization. She had a scaled rendering of the current drop she was working on along with isometric and views eye drawing of the scenic design of the show laid out on her large desk. Behind her was her computer and on the wall, also behind her were her own degrees. She had a Bachelors in fine art and a masters in theatre arts. There several various framed pictures with what looked to be friends and old school mates from college. He noted there were none that appeared to be with any kind of family. The one he noticed most was simply of her, she looked like she was in her early twenties at the time. She was in a hide outfit with fringes on the sleeves and a Union army cap and boots. Her hair was a little shorter, but pulled back. She was cracking a whip and holding a pistol.

"What's with the western giddup?" Harvey gestured to the portrait. She looked back and smiled, turning back to him.

"Ah, a show I was in."

"Oh, so you're an actress?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Well, back in school I was required to audition to get into my graduate program, that's standard, even for techies like myself. Anyway… It was also required that I perform in at least one show, and I apparently was the right fit for the role of Jane Canary-"

"_Calamity Jane_? Originally starring Doris Day and Howard Keel?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You're familiar with it?"

"Movies are kind of my thing."

"Then you've seen it?"

"My mom was a quite the Doris Day fan. I'd pay money to see you, of all people, in _that_ role."

"Ah, well, I'll admit I had quite a bit of fun. I have a tape of it somewhere."

"I might have to hold you to that, then."

She gave a coy smile and dug into a portfolio on her desk. She pulled out the sketch she had done the night before and slid it over to him.

"Well, there's that."

Harvey looked it over. It was very detailed. Something about the man looked familiar to him.

"Thank you, this is great, my boss will, hopefully, be pleased."

"Glad to be of service. Now, what was it you wanted to 'pick' my brain about, Detective?"

Harvey pulled the binder off his lap and slid it over.

"I don't know how familiar you are with this character, but-"

"Ah, I heard about this on the news this morning on my way to work. The graffiti artist?"

"Yes, Electric Sheep."

She smiled at the spine of the binder.

"Ha. I like the label."

She pointed to "Do Androids Dream of…?" on the spine. Harvey shrugged. She looked back down to the binder and began thumbing through. She stopped in a few places, reading his own personal notes next to pictures and areas where he used sharpie marker to draw attention to certain aspects of the art works.

"You're quite the art critic, Detective. I am impressed with your notes and speculations, but why show this to me?"

"Well, again, you heard about this morning. Today is the five year anniversary of this joker's last little stunt."

"You're a homicide detective though. Wouldn't this be vice or something."

"I've been a little personally invested in this case for most of the time I've been with the force. Look, I was just wondering if you could, maybe, I dunno, take my little binder here and maybe make your own notes, help me get a better profile on this guy. Maybe there's something I've been missing…"

She nodded and looked back to the binder, continuing to look it over.

"I notice that you refer to this Sheep person as a male. On first glance, I will be honest, I don't believe this is a male."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know, just intuition."

"Well, you seem to be good at that. That's kind of why I wanted _you_ to look this over. I mean, you got that little talent for reading people, and you have the visual arts background. I thought maybe you'd be a helpful set of eyes."

"About that-"

Her gaze turned back up to him, a look of true sincerity shimmering in her eyes.

"I want you to know I am very sorry for any awkwardness I put you through yesterday. Sometimes I just don't know when to shut my mouth. Again, I am sorry if I offended-"

"Water under the bridge."

She closed the binder and leaned back in her seat a little.

"Still though, I am sorry."

Harvey just gave a nod.

"It's fine. So, you mind doing a little homework for me?"

"I'll agree to it, but what do I get in return?"

Harvey shrugged and leaned forward a little.

"Name your price."

"Oh, monetary motivation is beneath me, Detective, besides, I make plenty enough to satiate my needs in that respect."

"Well, what then?"

That devilish smirk came across her face again. She pulled something out of her desk and slid it over to him. It was a very swanky looking invitation to a very swanky event.

"What's this?"

"Escort me to the opening night of the Opera's season and I'll do your "homework."

"You could get anyone to go with you to this, you're… well you're certainly not incapable of finding an eager gentleman-"

"Yes or no?"

"What do I have to wear?"

"Tuxedo, black tie."

"Eh-"

"Yes or no?"

"Fine, but the last time I wore a tux-"

"I'll take care of the rest. Leave me your card, take mine, and I'll set up an appointment with a tailor by the end of the week, if that works for you."

"Deal, but there better be an-"

"Open bar through the entire night."

Harvey offered his hand. She shook it in return.

"I'll get my notes to you as soon as I can. Take that invitation with you. Can I help you with anything else, Detective?"

"I should get going, plenty of shit to swim through today."

"Alright then. I'll walk you out."

Harvey was on his way back to work when Jim called.

"What's up, pard?"

"Oh you sound quite chipper, Harv? Did you get that sketch?"

"Whatever and yes."

"What's it looking like?"

"I dunno, kind of ugly dude, big nose, beady eyes-"

"What about his jaw? Anything interesting?"

"Wait one-actually, as a matter of fact, looks like he has a gnarly little scar on the left side."

"Just what I wanted to hear. I think I got our guy, then."

"_Nice._ Bag 'im, tag 'im, and I'll meet you at HQ, eh?"

"Sounds like a plan. See you in twenty."

"Later."

**NOTES:**

Thanks for reading, guys, I hope you're all enjoying. Sorry for the occasional typo or what not that I may miss every now and then. Again, hope you're enjoying!-t back to his paperwork and left Harvey to his sour mood. you."tudio space." that he was my secret place


	4. Indigo

"So, we got witnesses that can place you at the scene and this-" Harvey slammed the sketch down on the table between he and the suspect, a Mr. Fred Williamson. He was a regular within the police department. His record was littered with robberies, assaults, and domestic violence. He already had a warrant out for an armed robbery about three months ago.

"That ain't admissible in court, Bullock."

"It _is_ when the _witness _that drew it saw you there AND happens to be a _professional artist_, so it really _is admissible_."

Harvey, being the pro he was, got a confession within a half hour. Once he was walking out the interrogation room Jim came out of the observation room next door and gave him a high five.

"I'll get the remaining paperwork filed by the end of the day."

"That's great because I wasn't going to do it anyway!"

Jim shook his head with a smile at Harvey. They began walking down the hall together while other officers would be left with getting Williamson processed.

"Alright, well I need to call the DA and all that."

"Oh, I could use a _drink_."

"How is that any different than usual?"

"Believe it or not, _putz_, but I am in an excellent mood."

"I've noticed. You've been light on your feet since you returned from going to see Miss Baringer."

"So?"

"Well, what's the deal?"

"The deal is that she's going to be doing some homework for me."

"Homework for what? Not that vandalism thing-"

"Yes, exactly that vandalism thing."

"Harvey, we have bigger fish to fry. Why bother?"

"Jim, I told you, I worked that case for _fifteen years._ That shit he, or potentially she, pulled this morning was personal. She's taunting me. _She's trolling me_."

"She?"

"Baringer thinks it a woman."

"Really? What's the reasoning behind it?"

"I don't know, she didn't say, but she has this… intuition about her. It's freaky."

"What did she do or say to give you _that idea_."

"She ripped me a new one yesterday. I'd never met her in my life until yesterday and in less than thirty minutes she had me figured out."

"Ha! What did she tell you?"

"She told me I put off an air of chauvinism to put women off from being attracted enough to me to want a relationship that lasts for more than a few hours because I love them so much that I think it would be unfair of me to put one through the hardships of being a cop's squeeze."

"That's a little heavy."

"You're tellin' me."

"Is it true?"

"I'm not answering that question."

"So it is true, then. "

"Don't ruin my good mood, boy scout."

"You're the one who brought it up."

"Anyway, she's doing homework for me. I have a feeling she's going to _nail_ it."

"So now she's consulting for the department?"

"She didn't want any money. She and I have a _deal_."

"What is that, then?"

Harvey sighed a little as he sat in his chair and uncapped his flask, pouring a shot into a soda sitting on his desk. He pulled the invitation she gave him out of his pocket after digging for it in his jacket, now hanging on the back of his chair. He handed it to Jim.

"She's making you watch _The Barber of Seville_?"

"Yeah, and I have to go with her to the after party."

"So a _date?_"

"No, it's _not a date_, I'm just going to be her _arm candy_."

Jim smiled, chuckling a little. Harvey growled at him.

"You? _Arm Candy?_"

"Shut up, I clean up decent."

"Sorry, Harvey, I'd have to see that to believe it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go look down your little twenty something, clean cut nose at the _slovenly_ middle aged guy-"

"Harvey-"

"No, no. You'll see. Come Friday night I'm gonna be in a monkey suit with a classy lady on my arm and you know where you'll be? At home watching a stupid chick flick or something."

"Alright, Harvey. Well, either way, try to behave yourself. Have you even seen an opera before?"

"Yeah, sure, _Looney Tunes_."

"Harvey, the _Rabbit of Seville _does not count."

"All I know about opera is it's usually about some bitch dying and it takes her three acts to do it."

Jim sighed and put his palm to his face.

Two days later, on Thursday, Harvey received a call on his cell phone.

"Hello?"

"_Detective._ "

"Ah, Miss Baringer."

"What are you doing in about an hour?"

"Lunch. Why?"

"Would you mind stopping by Fontaine's during your lunch?"

"The tailor in the West side?"

"Yes. Mr. Fontaine will be waiting for you to take your measurements. Before you leave, please be sure to give him an address he can have the tuxedo delivered tomorrow, whether that is at work or home is up to you. Will you be able to make that?"

"Uh, sure, yeah."

"Sorry to spring it on you like this, but it was hell getting an appointment. Anyway, that's all on my end. I'll meet you tomorrow night at the Opera house. I'll be in the lobby by 6:45, the performance begins at seven. Please try to be there at least ten minutes prior to the performance. If you are late you will not be allowed in until the intermission between the first and second acts."

"Alright. Is that it?"

"I'll have your ticket, unless of course you are not there on time, then I will leave it with Will Call."

"Okay, boss."

"I'll see you tomorrow night, detective."

"See you, later then."

She hung up and Harvey put his phone away.

An hour later he was standing on a small platform, in his socks, but in a tuxedo that was just slightly baggy on him while the mentioned Mr. Fontaine was taking measurements and placing pins in the luxuriant fabrics he was clothed in. He felt a little odd. He'd never had anything he wore tailored to actually fit him and him alone.

"So, you are friends with Miss Baringer? She is one of my favorite people."

"_Really_? Why?"

"She always points _plenty _of business my way."

"Oh so she sends all her dates here to get fitted to her liking?"

"I've never known her to date. She and I were in college together. In her industry there is always need for a proper suit."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"As well as your profession, Mr. Bullock. She told me you are a detective."

"That I am."

"Very interesting. I noticed the suit you came in wearing could use a little love. I offer a discount to police and other government workers."

"I think I'll be fine on that end, compadre, but I'll keep that in mind for the future."

"Have it your way. Proper tailoring can make a ten dollar suit look like a ten thousand dollar one."

"Again, Mr. Fontaine, I will keep that in mind."

Once Fontaine was done he stood and stepped back, looking at the amount of alteration he would have to make. It wasn't much. He wiggled his nose a bit while stroking his small beard as he walked around Harvey looking him over. While he was out of Harvey's line of vision he picked something up. He came back around to Harvey and held a swatch of varied colors of silks. He held them up against Harvey's chest and began flipping through them.

"What's that for?"

"Your pocket square."

"Can't you just pick one?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing."

Fontaine skipped over a few different colors.

"I liked the blue, why can't I have the blue?"

"Mr. Bullock, you should have a splash of color to match Miss Baringer's dress."

"What color is her dress?"

"The _colors of sunset_ with turquoise jewelry."

"Sounds fancy."

"The better word for it is _ravishing_. I altered it for her last week. I had to take in the waist just an inch or so and let out the bust about four and reinforce the boning to support the bust."

Harvey just grinned.

"The lady doth have quite the bosom."

Harvey grinned even more at Fontaine's comment, chuckling just a touch.

"I wouldn't be able to tell, I only ever seen her in coveralls and street clothes."

"Prepare yourself then, Mr. Bullock, I think she will blind you if you are not careful."

"Thanks, compadre, I'll keep that in mind."

"I think we are going to go with the indigo. It is level with her own chest and it suits you well. It brings out those blue eyes and that hair of yours. Your cufflinks will be turquoise. Alright then, Mr. Bullock, we have a tuxedo, you may go change out of these I will have it to you by tomorrow. I'll also have shoes to go with it."

The next night, Harvey was scrambling into his apartment. It was already five thirty and he wasn't even close to being dressed yet. He carried in a hanger with a plastic bag protecting it from getting any dirt or whatever else on it. He had a box in his other hand containing his shoes, cufflinks, his pocket square, and a black fedora since Fontaine noticed he so insisted wearing one. He moved to his bedroom.

Harvey's bedroom was the most personable part of his apartment. His bed was clothed in dark blues and his nightstand covered in tawdry reading materials. On his walls he had a few framed classic movie posters, or at least his favorite and most personal ones. There were a few in his living room, but his bedroom contained his most favored. Sunset was spilling into his room and giving it some warmth. He tossed everything on his bed and began ripping his clothes off on the way to his bathroom to shower up.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of his mirror debating on whether to completely shave his beard or just to groom it.

"Screw it, I don't want to look like the putz who cut himself shaving."

Harvey worked to clean up and trim his beard. It took him about ten minutes to get it to look decent enough. He shook his head like a dog shaking off water until it was halfway dry. He threw on some cologne, but not too much. Once he got back into his bedroom he began pulling his tuxedo on. He noticed there was now also a vest, something he hadn't been fitted with yesterday. It was faded from a deep indigo to magenta. The jacket, when buttoned, would conceal the magenta and just show off the indigos and purples. He got the rest of it squared away including shoes, cufflinks and the pocket square. By this point his hair was completely dry and he headed back to the bathroom to deal with his hair. He stopped in his tracks when he looked into the mirror and observed his clothes. They fit him in such a way that complemented his frame more than he would have expected. He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. Finally, he shook his head and combed his hair. Nothing about it looked right when he combed it so he just mussed his hand through it and called it a win. He secured the hat on his head and pulled on the inky black coat that came with it. He nodded to himself, snapped his fingers and then pointed to himself in the mirror.

"Let's go to the ball, Cinderella."


	5. Such A Tease

He made it to the lobby of the opera, _barely_. He arrived with only five minutes to spare. He searched around with his eyes for Baringer. He was thankful Fontaine told him what her dress looked like so he may have some hope at finding her, however, he wasn't seeing her. He checked his watch and began to bee line for will call when someone caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head and he spotted her at the top of a landing of stairs leading up to the second level. He looked up to her and froze in place, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

She turned away from someone that had been speaking to her and caught Harvey's eye. She was, as Fontaine said, clothed in the sunset's palette. Harvey just stood there like an idiot for a moment, removing his hat, absent-mindedly, before he was brought back to reality by her calling his name and motioning for him to hurry along up to her. He figured out how to walk up stairs again and headed up with haste. Once he was up to her she grabbed him at his arm and led him somewhere off to the left. She handed an usher their tickets and he led them to a doorway and opened it for them. They were led to seats house left on the mezzanine. They were shown to a pair of seats at the edge of it, closest to stage. She took the seat at the very edge and he was seated to her right. She looked to him, setting her small clutch down between their seats.

"I was worried you wouldn't make it for the first act, but something told me to wait."

"Sorry, got a little caught up."

"Fontaine wasn't cruel to you, was he?"

"Nah, though he did stick me once or twice with a needle or two."

She smiled.

"He does that sometimes. Either way, you look very smart, dare I say handsome. He does good work."

"Eh, I look alright, but you-"

The house lights were dimmed to half the intensity they had been at just before and the room began to quiet down.

"Ah, it's starting. We can get drinks at intermission."

Harvey was slightly annoyed at the timing of the start of the show, but he'd be able to finish his sentence later.

As the opera started, they were introduced to Almaviva, a young man in desperately in love with a young woman named Rosina and then eventually the Barber himself, Figaro. As things progressed through the first act Harvey found himself recognizing much of the music, as it has been utilized so often in movies, television, and other works. He would watch the super titles to understand what was being sung between characters. However, what got him was how comedic it was. From what he understood, operas were very tragic and very long winded, however this one was proving to be more a ham than he ever would have realized. He scolded himself, internally, for not having done a little research on it, then again, he wondered if he would have been as entertained by it had he googled it before coming.

At the end of the act she would begin to stand while clapping. She tugged him along while everyone else was busy clapping.

"Let's beat these chumps and get a drink before a line gets started at the bar."

"_Yes, ma'am."_

She was sneakier than Harvey pegged her for. She showed the bartender some sort of identification and he quickly poured them each a glass of irish whiskey, neat, as she ordered it. They settled on a small balcony overlooking the lower level of the lobby. There were at least two or three more stories of seats above them with their own respective bars overlooking the same area their balcony overlooked. She leaned against the railing and looked to him as he stood before her, staring a bit more than he intended.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, actually. It's pretty elaborate."

"I painted that entire thing, and there's still more of it to come."

"_All of it?_"

"All of it."

"_By yourself?_"

She just smiled and gave a simple nod.

"_How do you even have the time?_"

"That entire school is my work space. I work on drops in that gym, larger scenic pieces and smaller drops in the cafeteria, medium sized scenic pieces in the auditorium, small scenic pieces and props in the classrooms and other spaces. You'll have to let me tour you around to see everything I've been doing. I think I have about four shows I'm working on at the moment."

Harvey stepped a pace closer to her to avoid other patrons walking between them as they spoke.

"I'd like to see that, but that still doesn't answer my question. How do you find time to do all that in time for when these things open?"

"I'll admit, I've had more than my fair share of twenty hour days."

"I can relate to that."

"I like it though. Sometimes the three AM deliriousness, helped along with a little encouragement brings out the best in my work."

"Encouragement?"

She bit her lip a little.

"A little whiskey, a joint, a few cigarettes."

Harvey placed a hand on the rail she leaned against, dangerously close to her as he took a long swig of his own whiskey.

"So, you're a little _bad_, hmm?"

"What're you going to do about it_? Cuff me and take me down town, Detective_?"

"Cuff you, maybe, take you down town, well…"

She was about to say something when a series of sounds gently filled the room. It was signifying the two minute warning until the beginning of the second act.

"We better get back to our seats, Detective, finish your drink."

Harvey gave her a lingering gaze, looking down to her dress for a moment. It was strapless and went all the way to the floor with a small train trailing behind it. A slit ran up nearly all the way to her hip on the right side, showing off her short, but well toned and thick legs. Harvey exhaled and pushed back off the rail before finishing his drink as she told him to. He set the glass next to where she set hers and offered his arm. She took it and he led them both back to their seats in silence. Once they were seated again and the room went dark as the next act started he waited until her attention was completely on the show before he took a moment to gaze down to his left at her leg as the fabric hung off her leg, exposing it more fully to his view. Eventually he turned his attention back to the stage, occasionally looking over to her when she laughed or giggled at something.

After some time, the performance would wrap up, everyone was happy, it all hunky-dory, as they say. Baringer stood at the end of it and clapped Harvey joined her. She looked to Harvey, he gave her an approving nod before turning his attention to performers bowing during curtain call. They would eventually file out and into the lobby, having a drink from the bar, lounging for a moment before they would head up to the party.

"So, what's the deal with this party?"

"What do you mean?"

"A bunch of rich bitches or what?"

"Yes, donors, board members, employees, and some members of the press will be there."

"So I gotta be a _good boy_, then?"

"Yes."

"You gonna be a _good girl_?"

"_Not likely_."

She bit her lip.

"I think I like that answer, _Adelaide_."

She gave him a sharp look.

"Oh, pardon me, _Miss Baringer_."

"I don't know if I should, _Detective Bullock_."

"Call me Harvey."

"Fine, you may call me Adelaide, then."

"Wait, that's all it took?"

"Well, I also realize how odd it would be that my _date_ would be calling me Miss Baringer in front of my peers, colleagues, and supervisors."

"Oh, so this is a _date_ now?"

"If you'd like it to be."

Harvey opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. She smirked and straightened his bow tie, their bodies simply inches apart. Once it was straightened her hands fell onto his chest, lightly.

"I'll let you think _that_ over while I duck into the ladies room for a moment before we head up."

Harvey exhaled, almost sounding pained as she slipped away, picking up her clutch and her gaze lingering on him for a moment before turning away while she walked off. He turned his head, watching her slink away. She had a walk that nearly made him feel underage, especially in that dress. Once he was out of her view he exhaled heavily and looked back ahead of himself, shaking his head and muttering something about his own death before chugging down the rest of his drink. By the time she returned he had her drink in hand, passing it off to her.

"Are you about ready to head up there, Harvey?"

"Whenever you are, Adelaide."

She finished her drink and set it down.

"Let's go then."

Harvey offered his arm and she took it, ushering him to an elevator that would take them to the top floor. Once the elevator opened the scene displayed for them was festive and vibrant. There were plenty of people laughing, drinking, and music seeping at a lazy, but notable volume. Some of the performers were there. Everyone was dressed well, though if Harvey had been asked he would have admitted that the woman he was escorting was the most tantalizing, though he didn't know if he would tell her that herself. He didn't want to float that ego of hers too much.

Once they stepped a few paces into the room a small group of people noticed her and tipsily shouted her surname at her. They both headed in that direction as the women in the group gushed over how she looked and asked who was with her.

"This is Harvey, his a detective for the Gotham Police."

"Helllllllooooo," said one of the women, winking at Harvey. Adelaide, gave her a stern gaze.

"Cynthia, don't grope him. I still remember the _Rocky Horror incident_."

Cynthia rolled her eyes with a smiled and downed some of the blue drink in her hand. Adelaide introduced him to everyone. They were all production people. Most of them were the electrics department, one or two of them from properties. After a moment she told him they should go get drinks, admitting on the way that she wanted an excuse to mosey away from that group.

"They can be a little much to handle with this much alcohol in them."

"What about _you_?"

"Why ruin the _mystery_, Harvey?"

"Fair enough, _madam_."

They got some drinks, grazed around the food and eventually ended up with the most rag-tag of the groups hanging around the party, the carpenters. They were mostly men and they were clearly the most foul-mouthed and hard drinking of the people present at the party. Adelaide seemed most at ease around them. They treated her as a sister, making fun of her, yet seemingly protective as they asked Harvey about what he did and what things he liked. Harvey responded well to them, they were, by far, the most genuine people present. They didn't give any fucks about what anyone thought and Harvey quite enjoyed hearing them tell the story of when Adelaide, covered in red paint, barely finished painting a set piece just as the house was opening for one of the shows.

"And then, she, for whatever reason, had to go to the lobby-"

"I had left my work box out there-"

"Right, right. Anyway, she goes out the lobby and an usher called 911 because he thought she was covered in blood. Those paramedics were annoyed at first, but I think they got a good laugh out of it."

Harvey looked down to her at his side.

"How long were you finding paint on your person?"

"Weeks and in the weirdest places. Oil based is such a bitch, but it was all I had."

Harvey just chuckled, bemused, and finished off his most recent cocktail. He'd already had two since they got to the party. Adelaide took the glass from him.

"I'll go get you another, you grabbed the last ones."

"Thanks."

Harvey watched her for a moment and turned back to the carpenters.

"So, Harvey, how's it going?"

"Eh-"

"I mean being Adelaide's _plus one_. She's worked here for years and she's never brought a friend."

"Oh, pretty well I guess. She's very… _interesting_."

"How did you meet her?"

"Uh, well, she was a witness to something I was investigating."

"Oh wow. That shooting she saw a week or so ago?"

"I can't talk about the case, but yes. Actually, she's doing a favor for me and coming here was my payment for the favor."

The one talking to Harvey, Gary, nodded.

"What's the favor?"

"She's helping me profile a vandal with a penchant for elaborateness."

"You wouldn't be talking about ElectricSheep, would you?"

Harvey nodded.

"Oh wow! I love that guy, no offense. I mean, I know you guys want to catch a guy like that, but personally I think it's all brilliant. It's nice that he's come back, well I hope it really is him and not a copycat."

"I am 99 percent sure it is not a copy cat."

"How?"

"Again, I can't talk about cases."

"Aww, that sucks. Well, good luck with that, but on the other hand, I really hope you don't catch him. Sorry."

Harvey shrugged.

"Thanks I guess."

Adelaide was at the bar and looking at Harvey, she waved him over and he excused himself from the group of carpenters. He walked over to her and she handed him a drink.

"So, you want to go do something _fun_?"

"And what would that be?"

"Just follow me, but grab your stuff, though."

"Where we going?"

"You'll see."

They went back down the elevator, stopping at the floor level with the catwalks. She led him through a labyrinth of doors and hallways and eventually they made it to the catwalks, above the audience. Harvey looked down at everything and then back to her.

"Won't someone see us?"

"There's no one here."

"How do you know?"

It was nearly pitch black, save a ghost light on the stage. Harvey watched his steps, slightly thrown off for a moment by the wire mesh that made up the walking surface of the catwalks.

"What is this? A trampoline?"

"Not exactly, but the same idea."

"That's weird."

"Leave your stuff by the door, bring your drink though."

Before she began walking on the mesh she removed her shoes so her heels would not poke through the mesh.

"So bouncy. It's kind of nice. Why are we up here, anyway?"

"Eh, I was getting a little bored with the party. I like it up here. It's nice, it's quiet."

She settled at a spot right at center of the catwalks. She held her drink, sipping at it while Harvey caught up with her after setting his coat and hat down near the door. She turned to him, leaning her back against the railing as she had done before in the lobby. There was a spot of solid plate walkways just a few feet from her. Lights that weren't hung for the show were stored away on railing nearby. When Harvey made it over to her he leaned on the rail next to her, joining her as she gazed down at everything below.

"So, what is this? Your happy place?"

She smiled.

"I always like catwalks this late at night. It's a good place to hide from everyone, well , unless the electricians are hanging or focusing."

"What are you hiding from?"

"Most of the time I come up here to just get some peace, but tonight, I guess I just wanted to show it to you. I thought you might appreciate it."

"Well, its very high up and it's very quiet. Silence is an uncommon thing in Gotham."

She smiled, nodding, and taking a drink.

"That it is, Detective, that it is."

He shifted, leaning against his side on the rail now while turned to her.

"I told you to call me Harvey."

"Well, I don't always do what I'm told, _Bullock_."

"Hey, hey, don't you get sassy with me."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"You started it."

"Such a gentleman."

"Not by a long shot, but I'll be honest; I _don't_ think you _like_ a gentleman."

"_Then what do I like_?"

Harvey reached with his free hand over to her waist, taking rough grip of it and pulling her to him just a little.

"Oh I think you like rotten s_coundrels_."

"And you're a _scoundrel_?"

"According to the way _you_ describe me, I think I am."

"Awww, are you still hurt about what I said the other day?"

"You know, I been thinking about what you said."

"And?"

"Let me finish. I think you're right, but- you like men a little _rough_ around the edges."

"_Maybe I do_, so then what?"

Harvey finished his drink and moved toward her. She backed from him with an intrigued and an excited gleam in her eye. He crouched to set his glass down, she did the same. Once they were both at their full height again Harvey gripped her waist with both hands, fingers tangling in brilliant fabrics, his eyes wandering downward to the rest of her before meeting her own again.

"Well, I can't say, Miss Baringer. I can only do. I'm a man of _action_, not so much on the words."

"Are you going to show me?"

"You can bet your ass I'm going to."

Harvey tugged her to him, sharply. She gasped in surprise. He roughly pressed his mouth against hers. Her arms went around his neck. One of his stayed at her waist while the other went to her back, pressing her solidly against him, closing the gap between them. She was shorter than Harvey by half a foot or more. Her body was curved very well, she filled out every bit of that dress she wore in all the ways Harvey liked. It had been a feat on his part that he'd lasted this long without making any moves. All night he wanted nothing more than to rip that gorgeous dress from that creamy flesh of hers.

She returned his kiss, sucking on his bottom lip as she drew her head back from him and moved her hands, pulling at his hair almost cruelly. He growled when he crashed his face back into her own, lust and desire flaring up in him like a fire kicking up with more fuel. His left hand slid under her dress, through that slit on her right side, taking firm and predatory grip on her backside. He could feel lace and smell the perfume upon her skin. It wasn't but mere seconds before they both began sinking down onto the mesh. He gripped that lace and all but ripped it from her. He tossed it, without care, to the plated walk way behind him and he could feel the tension in her body at the removal of her panties. He didn't wait for her to react to him, he peppered kisses, licks, and nibbles along her inner thigh before lifting the skirt of the dress and diving, tongue first, into her. She gasped a weak and defeated moan, gripping his hair as he tasted her.

"mmmmharvey, unhhhh."

Harvey didn't stop, though the sound of his name from her lips was enough to harden him the rest of way. He wanted to hear her say his name all night, if she was willing to keep saying it that way, and he was pretty sure she would be up for that based on how she trembled and shuddered for him so sweetly. He was determined to make her so hot and bothered that she'd beg him, plead with him, to give her a taste of what he had to offer. Finally after about five minutes, she was at that point. She panted, tugging on his hair, asking him to please give the proverbial "it" to her. He climbed up to her, hovering over her, pressing his mouth into hers again without remorse. She reached down, trying to grab at his belt, but her hands not quite making it. He moved his mouth to her neck, chuckling at her unfortunate arm length.

"No wonder you need the bamboo stick to paint."

She smacked him on his arm.

"Shut up, and get your pants _off_."

"Mmmm, you want it that bad?"

"Stop teasing me."

"I'll tease you all night if you don't start _behaving_, Miss Baringer."

"Ass."

Harvey began to undo his belt and his pants. He moved to wrap an arm around her waist and pressed forward. He was so hard and she was so wet that neither needed the help to find the other. He pressed into her just a little, once again teasing her. She growled at him to continue forward.

"Be nice or I'll just pack it all up and leave you here."

"_You're so mean_."

"You like it, _admit it_."

"No."

Harvey was too entertained by her dissention and irritation at his hesitation (hey that rhymed) to give into her wants just yet.

"Harvey, please, just-_please_."

"Please what?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, baby?"

"You know _what it is_?"

"Do I?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I do. What is it you want from me?"

"I just want you to-ugh. I just want you to fuck me. Stop _toying with me_, you troll."

"Mmmm, _yes ma'am_."

Harvey pressed the rest of the way into her, slowly. He dug his fingers into her at the feel. He gasped into her neck and found her lips again. He nearly groaned when he began thrusting back and forth.

"Ha ha! Oh how the tables turn, _Harvey_."

"Ffffff-Jesus. What are you? Some kind of- I don't even-"

"Mmmm, just keep at it, _Detective_."

Harvey was astounded at how much she gripped him the way she did. He could tell that she'd be something, but he didn't expect this. Really, he didn't know what to expect, but being clutched that tight would throw any man for a loop. He eventually found more speed and power in him once he got a little more accustomed to the way she felt. Whimpers and moans began to escape her more frequently while more growls, grunts, and moans found their way out of the back of his own throat.

"Harvey, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-

"Cum for me, baby, just for me."

"_Yes, sir_…mmmm"

He could feel her twitching and trembling as waves overcame her, wracking her body, shaking her to her center. Harvey followed right after, hard thrusts punctuating his own satiation. He collapsed onto her and they both panted, nearly in sync, as they both tried to catch their breath, heads swimming in unison. Harvey eventually rolled over onto his back beside her. He slid an arm under her head and neck and just stared up at the ceiling for a moment, with her, in silence, unable to speak.

"Harvey, do you not know _who I am_ yet?"

**NOTES:**

Thanks for the reads guys. More to come later! I didn't want to keep you waiting much longer for _the intimacy_. Anyway, review me, tell me what you think. You'll notice the rating is back to Mature! :D


End file.
